


Promises

by aliciutza



Series: Aliciutza Writes Jonerys Drabbles & Short Stories [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, F/M, kiss prompt, like a lot but i make it better in the drabble after this one so stay tuned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/pseuds/aliciutza
Summary: Jon and Dany say their goodbyes before the final battle against the army of the dead.The prompt: 76. Top Of Head Kisses





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> The Kiss Prompts come [from this post here ](http://adecila.tumblr.com/post/183184679155/prompt-list)

The end was here; he felt it in the way the air just wouldn’t enter his lungs, in the way his hand seemed to have a mind of its own, flexing to the jerky rhythm of his heart, in Ghost’s alert mind, constantly watching him, ready to jump at the slightest sign of distress. He saw it on his sister’s face, as he forced her to abandon their childhood home, to flee to safety, to hope that at least some of the living had a chance of making it out alive. He saw it in Arya’s eyes, as she begged him to not make her leave him again – so he allowed her to stay, despite his heart screaming at him that he had just damned her to a destiny worse than death. He saw it in Gendry’s court nod and in the way his jaw set, a silent promise that he would keep her safe until his dying breath. 

 

His voice was barking orders at the Free Folk, at the Hound, at what was left of the Northern army, and what little came from the South – yet it felt surreal, as if he was in Ghost, watching himself, watching the Lord Commander take the reins. _Or was it the Commander of the Queen’s Army now?_

 

Jon felt a presence approach him, radiating heat and light, pulling at him, making him turn despite himself. There she was – his Queen, his one and only, his life and his death – coming towards him, the image taking him back to just a few nights prior, when he was waiting for her beneath the heart tree. To the outside she must have looked a true warrior, in her fur lined armour, the long moonbeam hair whipping behind her in a long thick braid, adorned with silver bells, face stern and determined on a single goal – survival. Yet, he knew better; from the way she kept adjusting her head higher, as a remainder to herself to keep going, to the way her hands were clenched in fists, to the grimaces she offered to anyone greeting her or wishing her good fortune.

 

She stopped in front of him, just far enough that it would seem appropriate, as if anyone would even care about their monarchs’ public affection displays. But Jon suspected the distance was more for her sake than their subjects’.

 

She didn’t look at him for what seemed the longest time, opening her mouth a few times before she finally spoke, “Promise me, Jon Snow. Promise me.”

 

His hands burned to touch her, to kiss her, to pick her up in his arms and fly away on Drogon, the rest of the world be damned. Yet, he didn’t. Jon bit down on his cheeks to stop himself from taking back his promise – he would survive, for her and their babe, they would both survive. He stepped closer, briefly enveloping her in one of many hugs to come. He would not fall, not today, not anytime soon – she shivered, although he knew it wasn’t from the cold – her hands fisted the top of his fur coat, begging him, “You promised, Jon, you promised,” she choked out.

 

He knew that if he were to kiss her now, he wouldn’t be able to leave her, his heart already torn because she would be in just as much danger as he would, fighting alongside her army. Thus, he settled for the smallest of gestures – he kissed the top of her head, a swift press that could easily go unseen by most eyes, but full of meaning. Jon hoped that his kiss said what his mouth couldn’t – that he would keep his promise, that he loved her completely and irrevocably, that he was hers for many years to come, until his hair matched hers in colour. 

 

She squeezed him one more time before she let go and went to find Drogon. He turned, unable to watch her go, fighting hard against the voice telling him it would be the last time they would see each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So the next drabble can be read as a sequel to this one - make sure to check it out if you're feeling too hit in the feels :D


End file.
